Take Me Away

Of course I was woken up by the sounds of barfing. My head is pounding and my stomach lurches every time Collins gags. Damn, I hate being hung-over. It sucks. My eyes are closed and I try and think back on last night. It’s harder than you think, to recap what happens when you’re shit faced. All that comes to my mind is Taylor... and Collins puking. Well that’s the best thing to remember the morning after. I squeeze my eyes shut harder and try to remember, but my mind is just blank. Collins groans and I keep my eyes tight shut, hoping that maybe if I pretend I’m still asleep, Collins won’t make me help clean her up.

“Cora,” Collins moans before throwing up again. Oh how wrong I can be.

I open my eyes and glance over at Collins, who has her head over the side of the bed. Wait, didn’t we leave her in the bathroom? The fuck if I know… She moans out in pain and I sigh softly. I look over at the burgundy sleeping bag on the floor and find that Taylor is looking up at me. I shake my head a little bit and he smiles at me before Collins gags again.

Taylor looks away from me before he unzips the sleeping bag and gets up. I sit up in bed and reach over and rub Collins back, pulling her long blonde hair back. Taylor gets close to Collins and helps pull her so she’s sitting up. I crinkle my nose in disgust at the smell of puke as Collins lays her head against the wall behind her. Taylor grabs some tissues from the purple nightstand next to my blue duvet and hands them to Collins, who then wipes her mouth.

I rub her arm as she closes her eyes and rubs her face. “Ugh… too much liquor,” She groans. I smile half-heartedly and look at Taylor. He smiles at me and I shake my head.

“Yeah, just a little,” Taylor comments with a laugh. Collins smacks his arm and we all giggle.

“Go get me some painkillers, bitch,” She grumbles. Taylor rolls his eyes before walking out of the room.

I watch him go, you know I never really noticed it until now, but Taylor has a nice butt. That doesn’t mean I have a crush on him or anything! Even though Taylor is kind of cute… Okay stop these thoughts right now! I did NOT think this! Okay, deep breath this never happened. Anyways…

Collins smacks my arm, “Why are you looking at him like that?” She asks, I look at her and shrug, looking down and playing with the hem of my shirt. “You like him,” It was more of a statement then a question.

My head snaps up and I raise my eyebrows at her, “Are you insane? It’s Taylor! Our best friend! Of course I don’t like him, he’s a brother,” I say possibly a little too loudly, Collins flinches and lifts her hand to her head.

“Alright, alright! Don’t need to be so defensive, and loud for that matter,” She grumbles. I smile to myself and lay down next to her, reaching out a hand to rub at her belly. I know it's weird, but she's my best friend and if you've ever had someone rub your belly while you feel sick, it's nice. So I rub Collins belly gently until Taylor walks back in with a glass of water and the bottle of Tylenol.

"Here you go," He says, handing her the water before uncapping the bottle and shaking out two pills. Collins gulps down the pills and groans, her forehead reducing to wrinkles and her eyes squeezed shut.

"You think you'll be alright for work today?" I question as Taylor sits down on the bed and rubs Collins thigh. I swear on my life he's the sweetest guy ever. Not only does he deal with me and Collins every day, but he actually genuinely cares about us. Collins groans, but nods.

“I’m going hungover as fuck, so go make your dad make me breakfast,” Collins demands angrily. Taylor just chuckles and shakes his head, squeezing Collins thigh before getting up.

Taylor walks over to his sleeping bag and grabs a pair of black sweatpants and slips them on. I smile at him as I walk past and he returns it. You know what? He has nice lips too, I notice. Nice lips and a nice butt, I should tell him later. I walk out into the kitchen and wrap my arms around myself and shiver from the slight cold. My dad keeps the house insanely cold for no reason; I swear he’s like a penguin or something weird. My dad is usually awake by now, but since he isn’t out in the living room I’m not going to go to his room and wake him just so he can make Collins breakfast. I shiver again as I walk over to the freezer and pull it open spotting a box of Ego waffles and grabbing them. I go over to the sink and pull out the silver toaster, plugging it in and throwing some waffles inside. I tap my feet against the cool tile and let my teeth chatter for a second before I shut my mouth. Damn it’s friggen cold!

“Cold?” Taylor asks from behind me. I whirl around in surprise and find him sitting down at the kitchen table. I nod and make a goofy face at him, making him chuckle right as the waffles pop out.

“Want some?” I offer as I pull them out and onto a plate.

“Yeah, I’m hungry as fuck,” He says, patting his exposed stomach just as it grumbles at him. I roll my eyes and take the plate over to him along with some syrup. Absently, I stare at his chest. Something’s fucking wrong with me, I swear because all I can manage to do today is check Taylor out. He has a nice chest AND torso. I didn’t know he had abs like that… Gosh, I need to get my life in check. I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts as I return to the toaster and put more waffles in for me and Collins.

“You alright?” Taylor questions around a mouth full of waffle as I sit down next to him at the kitchen table. I nod and glance over at him as he shovels more food into his mouth. I grin and poke his stuffed cheek. He laughs, making some of the food in his mouth fall into his lap.

“Ew!” I say playfully, giggling as his cheeks go pink and he picks up the food, putting it back in his mouth. It just makes me laugh more and I lean back in the wooden chair, my hair falling behind my shoulder.

“Shut up,” He grumbles after he swallows. I giggle and sit back up, poking his cheek again for funsies. He pokes my cheek back and I flick my tongue out and lick it, a seductive look on my face. Taylor looks alarmed and snatches his hand back, holding it to his chest as he leans away from me.

“Oh chill, you toolbox,” I say with a giggle, sticking my tongue out at him as the other waffles pop out from the toaster. I swear we’re the biggest goofballs you’ll ever meet. I grab the waffles and put two on my plate and two on Collins, I swipe the syrup from Taylor quickly and run into my room ignoring his shouts of protest.

“Here lazy ass, Ego waffles and a shit ton of syrup,” I say as I toss a plate on her lap before climbing on my bed and sitting beside her. Collins peaks open an eye and sees the plate before stealing the syrup from me and dumping a crap ton on her plate. See, Collins mom won’t let her buy real syrup. She buys that bullshit kind of sugar-free crap. I mean seriously it doesn’t even taste like real syrup. It’s gross! So whenever Collins comes over she always eats half of the syrup bottle to stock up on the sugary goodness. I wait till she’s done and digging into her food before pouring some of my own and eating with her. Soon enough, Taylor joins us without a word, going straight for the syrup and pouring some more on his plate. I giggle at him and we eat in silence until we’re done. Taylor and I let Collins shower first because we’re both nice like that (and don’t want to hear her bitching) before we separately shower then get dressed for work.

“Shotgun,” Collins says as we walk out my front door and towards Simon. Taylor pouts at us and I just giggle and pat his shoulder. Taylor hates riding in the back seat of Simon because his legs are so long and he gets cramped. Personally, it’s hilarious to look back and see his knees pulled up close to his chest. Hilarious, I tell you. We all hop in and Taylor climbs to the back, I slap his ass on his way and he shoots me a glare.

“You loved it,” I say to him and hump the air. He rolls his blue eyes and situates himself, his long legs tangling awkwardly. Collins and I both snicker at him as we buckle our seatbelts and I turn on the car.

“Put on some Grateful Dead, I’m in a hipster mood,” Collins says as we pull out of my short drive way. I won’t lie, I’m a huge Grateful Dead fan and Collins knows it. She and Taylor poke fun at me for being a ‘hipster’ or whatever, but I can’t help it! I love Grateful Dead. It’s just so mellow, and it’s like the best music to listen to when you’re high. Not that I’ve ever smoked weed or anything… I press the eject button on the stereo and pull out my Fall Out Boy CD (Folie Á Deux is amazing, by the way) and grab the album American Beauty and put it in. Box of Rain comes on and we all fall silent, just listening to the soft beats and melodies. God, I love the Grateful Dead. Soon enough we pull up to Babe’s Bait and Tackle and I kill the engine.

Collins groans and opens her door, “Oh fuck me!” She shouts as she climbs out and stomps up to the small wooden building. I look back at Taylor and he’s just smirking to himself. I push Collins seat up so Taylor can get out then I climb out of Simon and follow Collins. Taylor jogs up beside me and I lock Simon before we both open the old green door and walk inside. The bell chimes as we enter and Jerry looks up at us. He gives us an awkward smile and looks away. Collins is already in the employee’s office and Taylor and I quickly hurry after her.

“I swear he’s a pedophile,” Taylor says when we walk inside and he shrugs out of his leather jacket. Oh yeah, Taylor wears a fucking leather jacket. It’s the coolest thing ever! It makes him look like a greaser/Gerard Way type. It’s awesome.

“I don’t want to deal with him today,” Collins groans, holding her head in her hands as she stands by the coatrack. “Can I do inventory? I don’t want to be hit on by some weird ass momma’s boy.”

“Jerry hits on you?” I question as I straighten out my t-shirt. Collins just nods and sits down in a seat, rubbing her temples. I shoot her a sympathetic look, ready to go out and tell Jerry that she’s sick and needs to go home when I see Taylor struggling to button his work shirt. I snicker and walk over to him; I swat his hands away from the small, clear button and easily button up his shirt.

“Thanks,” He says softly, his cheeks a light pink when I finish. I just giggle and ruffle his dark hair before walking back out into the store.

“Hey, Jerry,” I say to my boss. He was cleaning his glasses on his black manager shirt when I spoke. He looked up at me and squinted, I gave him an awkward smile and wave. “Collins isn’t feeling too well-“

“Ah, I see where this is going,” He interrupts me with his awkwardly high and nasally voice, which I won’t lie seriously pisses me off. It's not just his dumb voice that ticks me off its him in general. I mean who does he think he is? My dad’s the fucking owner. I should be his boss. Lousy piece of shit… “We’re going to be swamped today; she has to stay her full shift.”

“Alright,” I reply, I’m not going to even try to sound nice, “If she pukes, you’re cleaning it up.”

His lips press tightly into a line and he forces his glasses back on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but I lift a hand to stop him.

“Jerry, you’re weird,” I tell him honestly. He looks insanely confused by my statement. “Just thought I’d let you know, and when are we ever ‘swamped’ during the winter?” I ask before walking past him and over to the rack of fishing rods that should have been reorganized yesterday before we left. I begin to organize the fishing poles by the length of their rod (and yes, I do know how sexual that sounds) when Taylor walks over to me and helps.

“I heard what you said to Jerry,” He says quietly. I glance over and see Jerry at the register, standing next to a rather pale Collins.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what possessed me to say that, I just couldn’t hold it in,” I say with a shrug, handing Taylor one of the poles and he puts it back neatly on the shelf. We’re quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“I like that about you,” He says, “You never bullshit anyone, you’re always honest. I mean, sometimes your too honest, but I still like that about you. I know that you’ll always tell me the truth.”

I look over at him and he’s avoiding my eyes. For some reason it makes me smile and I turn my attention back to the rack. “Yeah? I mean- dumb question. Thanks, I guess. I just… don’t want to be fake like everyone else.”

Taylor nods, “I think that’s good, y’know? I guess it means you have good priorities or whatever.”

“You do too,” I respond, thinking back to this morning when he helped me take care of Collins, “You’re a nice person.”

Taylor looks up suddenly, surprising me with the fat grin on his face. “What?” I ask in confusion.

“You’ve never complimented me before, like that I guess,” He said with a shrug, a nice smile tugging at his lips.

“Really?” I question and he nods, “Oh. Well you have nice lips too, and a good butt.”

Taylor lets out a surprised snort and his eyes go wide, “You been checking me out lately?”

Why yes, yes I have. “I just noticed, turd, don’t get a big head,” I joke and nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. He nudges me back and suddenly we’re in a childish elbow-nudging war.

“Excuse me!” Jerry’s extremely annoying voice calls out. We both instantly stop the smile on my face turning into a scowl as I look back at Jerry. “We have customers,” He reminds us. I roll my eyes and turn around. Taylors holding in his laughter, and I stick my tongue out at him. He smiles and I give him a quick shove before hurrying towards the only customer in the store before Taylor can shove me back.

I look around the store; my eyes settling on a dark head right behind the large rack of fake bait and walk over to ask if our single customer needs help. I guess one customer is better than none right? I walk quickly around the rack, before I fully see him. I didn’t even know boys came that good-looking. Alright, I’m going to admit it, he is hot as fuck. I usually don’t say that about most guys, but uh he’s fine a shit. He’s just standing there, by the shelf of fake bait and staring at the merch. He is… wow. I think it’s the full sleeve of tattoo’s that just sold me. He has dark hair, even darker then Taylors, and brown eyes. He’s tall too, but not as tall as Taylor. (Why am I comparing him to Taylor?) And damn, those tats. They cover his right arm and he has two on the side of his neck. Oh and the lip piercings? Hot as fuck! I think he’s wearing guy-liner- yup! He is totally wearing guy-liner!

He finally notices me just staring at him and gives me a confused look. “Uh, are yeh a’right?” He questions in the most adorable BRITISH fucking accent ever. Damn, just damn.

I smirk at him, unable to hide it when I know he’s amazingly British. “Can I help you?” I ask, trying to not to sound nervous and get all shy. I need new friends, why not have one who is hot and British? He gives me a quick up down and I try (and fail) to keep in my grin. He totally just checked me out.

“Uh,” He says again, looking slightly startled. “No fanks, I got wha’ I need.” He picks up a box of fake plastic fish and lifts it up, giving me an awkward grin. I resist the urge to laugh like a weirdo and just nod. I glance down to the car keys attached to the loop of his black skinny jeans. ‘East Ely High School’ was printed across the lanyard attached to his keys. Oh, he is an East kid. East Ely was known for all of the potheads that go there.

“I’m Coralee,” I introduce myself, lifting a hand for him to shake. He reaches out and shakes mine and honestly, that boy needs to buy himself some lotion because he has some dry hands. I look down at his hands and you can just tell that they are dry by the look of his pale skin.

“Oliver,” He says when he lets go of my hand, brushing his palms against the side of his jeans. He’s nervous. I make him nervous! I smile at how awkward he is. It’s adorable.

“Where are you from?” I ask him, I was starting to hate the silence between us, it was hurting my ears. He looks surprised again. Why does he always look so startled when I talk to him? Why am I even trying to be friends with him? I don’t usually do this… I think it’s because he’s British and I just love British accents.

“Uh, I live down the drive by Farley Street,” He says, lifting a hand and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. I secretly love it.

I laugh and shake my head, “That’s not what I meant. You have an accent, where are you from?” I say again. He swallows thickly and meets my eyes for a quick second before looking away. Was I doing this wrong? Isn’t this how people become friends? Don’t they talk to each other?

“Sheffield,” He said, “S’in the UK, United Kingdom.”

I snort, “I know what the UK is, I’m not that stupid.” He just nods and looks down at his feet. I hope he isn’t dreading this conversation, because I really just want to listen to him talk. I have never had the privilege to have a British friend and I am going to just bathe in his sexy accent. Yes, I did admit that his voice is sexy. I just want to steal his vocal chords.

“How long have you lived here for?” I question, leaning my arm against the rack. He relaxes slight and offers me a small smile.

“Since the beginning o’school I fink,” He responds, his fingers playing with a frayed edge of the bait box, “Maybe a little in ta the summer, not long realleh.”

“That’s cool,” I say, nodding to him. What the hell do I say? Why is it that when I want to say something I can never come up with the right words? “Do you like it here?” I question. I know he’s probably been asked this question a billion times, but hey it’s all I could come up with.

“There’s nofing ta do,” He says automatically, making me smile. At least now I know he’s a little bit more comfortable around me. It’d be nice having a hot friend that I could occasionally make out with. “Otha than fish,” Oliver says, holding up the fake bait box again.

“If you’re buying fake bait, go for the more realistic looking ones, not the ones with neon colors. The bright colors just frighten the fish,” I say, referring to the neon pink painted fish he was going to buy.

“Uh fanks,” He says, putting his fish back and grabbing the dark blue ones, “I like the colorful ones, they look cool.”

I giggle and nod because honestly, they look way cooler than the boring blue and green ones. I like the way he thinks, because if I knew nothing about fishing (which is probably his scenario considering he’s wearing skinny jeans and guy-liner) I’d totally buy the colorful fake bait because they look fun.

“Do you want me to ring you up?” I ask. He looks alarmed again and takes a step back.

“Do I want yeh ta wha’?” He asks, his eyebrows rising so high that his black bangs cover them.

“Ring you up,” I say again, “Y’know, like ring your items up on the cash register?”

He looks relieved and nods again. I keep the words in my mouth, fighting not to tell him how fucking weird he is. I walk over to the register and he follows like a lost puppy. Even though he’s awkward, he is still incredibly cute. Collins is sitting glumly behind the register, but the second she sees him behind me she sits straight up, a flirty smile on her face. I roll my eyes and walk over to her.

“Collins can take care of you,” I say as I lean against the wooden register. He nods and mumbles a soft ‘Thanks’ that sounds more like ‘Fanks’ because of his accent. I walk over to Taylor who is on the stepladder putting new hunting hats up on the wall. When I reach him I grab the leg of his pants and tug.

“T! Taylor, get down here now!” I whisper yell at him. He steps back down the ladder and puts one of the hats on his head, giving me a goofy look that I can’t help but laugh at.

“Stop that,” I say, hitting him jokingly then I grab him by the shoulders and spin, pointing at the British boy that Collins is ringing up.

“Who’s that?” Taylor questions, his voice slightly hushed.

“That, my friend, is a British boy who lives in Ely in Minnesota,” I say in an equally hushed voice. Taylor chuckles and takes the hat off of his head then puts it on mine.

“Is he now?” He questions loudly. Oh shit, I know what he’s doing.

“Taylor, please don’t,” I whisper, moving to hide behind the rack of nets. He snickers at me and I flip him the bird.

“I didn’t know you had a fascination in British people, Coralee,” He says way too loudly. I groan and shrink down on the floor. I hate Taylor. I hate Taylor. I hate Taylor.

“Oh come on, I’m just messing with you,” He says as he kneels down beside me. I pout at him and he laughs, brushing my hair out of my eyes gently.

“You just did that because you want him to think I’m the biggest weirdo ever,” I say as I stand up again. Taylor chuckles and rolls his blue eyes.

“Yeah, happy Valentine’s Day,” He says sarcastically with a smirk. Oh shit. Today’s Valentine’s Day! I totally forgot! Usually I Taylor and I go out to lunch together, not on a date or anything, just because we’re single and don’t want to be alone during a ‘romantic holiday.’

“Oh crap, Taylor I’m sorry! It completely slipped my mind!” I say, because really I do feel bad. I pout and give him a big hug, squeezing the life out of him because I can. He laughs at me as I let go and I pout again.

“Don’t worry about it, my mom wanted me to have a family dinner with her anyways,” He says with a shrug. Oh yeah, another thing I forgot. Taylor’s dad passed away from a brain tumor when we were in middle school around this time of year. It was tough on him, but even worse on his mom. She still wears her wedding ring and everything. I think it’s kind of sweet, but Taylor wants her to stop so she can move on. Shit I need to get tested for ADD or something because I can’t remember anything for the life of me! I’m such a bad friend.

“Is she alright?” I ask and he shrugs meekly. I really hope she’s getting a little bit better, ‘cause when she’s all sad and stuff, it really bothers Taylor.

“Yeah,” He says, swallowing thickly, “She’s good.”

I can tell he’s lying and I feel bad. His mom has got it hard and even though it’s been five years since she lost her husband, she still feels all that pain. I give Taylor another hug (I can tell he needs one.) He holds onto me for a second longer than before, resting his cheek on the top of my head before he lets go and wraps his arm around my shoulder before tugging me to the cash register to where Oliver was still being rung up by Collins.

“-and Coralee is just the nicest. She’s my best friend. Her dad owns this place and he’s super cool,” Collins tells Oliver as she leans across the wooden counter. Oliver looks like he’s ready to shoot himself and I feel the same way. Seriously, do Collins and Taylor have to embarrass me every chance they get?

“Collins, I don’t think he wants to know your life story,” Taylor speaks up, gaining the attention of the two of them. I give Oliver a shy smile which he hesitantly returns and lean closer into Taylor’s side, wanting to disappear for the moment.

“I ‘ave ta leave anyways,” Oliver says quietly, nodding to the three of us before hurrying out. I instantly round on Collins and shoot her a glare.

“Why were you talking about me?!” I growl at her. She smirks and shrugs.

“That’s the British kid! He comes in here every now and again. He always gets the colorful bait, it’s so cute! He actually asked me who you were when you walked away,” Collins says, looking excited, “So that’s why we were talking about you!”

I’m totally surprised. Usually Collins is the one who brings me up and just pushes me on guys, most of them think it’s too overwhelming and don’t talk to me ever again. It’s one of the bad things about Collins; she can get way too excited.

“He looked about ready to stab himself in the eye,” I tell her. Taylor chuckles and I look up at him, he nods in agreement and I groan. “See! Even Taylor saw that he wanted to butcher himself! Great!”

Collins just rolls her eyes and stares at her hands that are fiddling with a pen. “I wrote your number on his receipt,” She says. I glare at her before turning and walking away without saying anything. She calls after me, but I ignore it.

Does she just have to do that? I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but some things that Collins does just sets me off. Like when she doesn’t tell me about the people she gets drunk with or when boys come around she doesn’t even talk to me. I try and convince myself that she’s a good friend, but I can’t remember the last time she’s actually done something nice for me. I guess I shouldn’t be so pissed about her writing my friggen phone number on some hot British guys receipt, but I mean she could have at least asked. I highly doubt he’ll call me or anything, but what if he’s a serial killer? Hell, he just didn’t fit. An emo kid who buys fake fish bait? (And yes, I decided that he is emo. Or at least a hipster, one of those.) It just didn’t look right! God, I need to stop thinking. I’m going to hurt myself one day.